


visited from old in a never ending circle

by LostInTheSun



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInTheSun/pseuds/LostInTheSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's that scar on your arm, Dad?"</p>
<p>In which Scorpius asks a question that gets an answer he wasn't expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	visited from old in a never ending circle

Scorpius is five years old, the first time he sees it.

It's well past his bed time and he should be sleeping but he can't, because cousin Hollace told him there were flesh-eating monsters under his bed when she came to visit that afternoon, and now Scorpius is afraid he's going to be devoured in his sleep. He's actually on the verge of crying, really, so when he hears scratching under his bed, he just bolts up in his bed and flees the room.

Running as fast as his small legs allow him to, he races down the corridor to the big living room where he knows his parents like to spend their evenings. 'The door is open. Stepping carefully, he creeps across the threshold in silence, and his eyes are instantly drawn to his father's bare forearm.

'He notices that his father is holding a book in one hand, while the other is stroking his mother's hair, her head resting on his lap. As Scorpius' gaze returns to his father's arm, he realises he had never seen him sleeveless before today. And he's not quite sure how, but he's willing to bet it's because of the scar on his forearm.

It's huge  **–** much, much bigger than the one Scorpius got on his knee when he fell the other day. It's huge and scary, too, because it looks like a skull and there's definitely a snake somewhere there too. The mark is white and shiny, just like fresh scars always are, but Scorpius doesn't recall his dad saying he'd hurt himself lately.

"What's that on your arm, Daddy?" he asks, and it's like he's dropped a bomb.

His mother suddenly bolts up, her anxious eyes passing quickly from her husband to her son, and after rolling Scorpius's dad's sleeve down, effectively hiding the mark away, she walks up to Scorpius and takes him in her arms.

"That's nothing, baby," she says, kissing him on the cheek. "Daddy's okay. And you should be in bed, young man," she adds, but she doesn't sound mad, not at Scorpius anyway.

"There are monsters under my bed," Scorpius explains, but he doesn't really care, actually. He's not looking at his mother – he's looking at his father, whose eyes aren't meeting his and who looks so ashamed Scorpius isn't sure what to make of it.

 

* * *

 

" _There's no point in lying to you, Scorpius. I did want it. I did want it, in the beginning, and I was… I was actually proud when I finally got it. It was everything I had ever wanted: bringing honour to my family, serving ideals that had been mine from the day I was born, finally having the chance to do something that would matter. I wasn't coerced into getting the Dark Mark, Scorpius. I was proud of getting it. I was gloating about the fact that I probably was the youngest Death Eater there's ever been._

_And that's probably why, now that I'm older, my shame of having been what I was is even bigger."_

 

* * *

 

Scorpius doesn't see the scar on his father's forearm for another two years and after some time, he actually starts to think that maybe, just like the monster under his bed turned out to be the family cat, the mark was just a trick of his mind.

But on his seventh birthday, after he's been playing in garden with Hollace all afternoon, Scorpius walks into the living room to ask his mum for a jumper, and what he finds instead is even more questions and fears.

His mother isn't here but instead he finds his father and his grandfather. 'It's not often that Granded Malfoy comes and visits them, because Scorpius and his parents live in Italy. They always have- Scorpius himself was born in Napoli- and he keeps saying that coming here is never worth the trouble of asking for an International Apparition Visa, so Scorpius doesn't know him as much as he knows Grandad Greengrass. Because of this, he's never sure what to say to him, especially since Grandad Malfoy is rather impressive, and rarely smiles or has anything nice to say.'

And now it's even worse, because as he stands quietly in the doorway of the living room, Scorpius's eyes fall not on one, but on  _two_ terrible scars.

His father and his grandfather both have rolled up their sleeves – Scorpius thinks he can hear Granddad Malfoy complain about the heat, although he's too shocked to say anything – and there they are, the big, shiny, disgusting skulls with the snake tongues. With the sun spilling into the room through the huge windows, it looks like they're on fire, and Scorpius knows he's a big boy now – he's  _seven_ after all, and Hollace says that seven years old boys are supposed to be strong and brave and face their fears – but he still feels like hiding.

Because… if his Dad and his Granddad both have that scar, it means he's going to get it, too.

It makes sense, because he looks exactly like his Dad. They've got the same thin mouth and the same small nose and the same pointy chin and the same blond hair and the same grey eyes. And Scorpius and his Dad both look like Granddad Malfoy, so it's obviously a family thing, that mark on their arms, isn't it?

 

* * *

 

" _You know I'm not trying not to take responsibility for my actions. I was foolish, and even worse than that, I was dangerous. I decided to follow the Dark Lord on my own free will, and I was glad to help. But my mother… my mother, she'd known from the start. She's always been much smarter than my father and I. She knew that the Dark Lord didn't really care about me. He just wanted to punish my father for his failures._

_And it finally became painfully obvious when I realised I couldn't kill Dumbledore. Not because of the technical problems I had with the Vanishing Cabinet, nor the fact that all of the less subtle methods I've tried to employ never reached Dumbledore. I couldn't kill him because… I'm not a killer. Killing a man takes courage, Scorpius, and I realised sometime around the end of November that I simply didn't have it in me to take someone else's life._

_And wanted to bail out, and I cried for help more than once. I wrote letters to my mother and I begged her to ask the Lord to free me from my duty. But sometime around my fifth letter, she told me, "It's a family thing, Draco." And she was right._

_I'm not trying to find excuses, Son, but you have to know what it was like. If I didn't kill Dumbledore, my father was going to be killed. I was going to be killed. The Malfoys had failed him when they couldn't bring the prophecy back to him, the night Sirius Black died, so the Malfoys had to pay._

_I was a pawn, Scorpius. I may have started my sixth year thinking I was some sort of grand warrior, but it never was the case. I was never_ _anything_ _more than a pawn on the Dark Lord's chessboard. I was there to pay for my father's sins. It was a family thing."_

* * *

 

Scorpius asks the question only once. It's a couple of weeks after his birthday, and while he didn't say anything, that day he saw the scar on his father and grandfather's arms, fear has been eating him alive, and he has to know.

"Dad," he says, unable to hear his fork clattering from his grasp, for his heartbeat is so loud it's deafening. "I need to ask you something."

"Sure, Son," his father answers with a smile.

"What's that mark on your arm?"

He doesn't mention he's seen it on Granddad Malfoy, too, because his mother drops her own fork, and she instantly says **,** "It's nothing."

But even as she says it, Scorpius knows she's lying. It's something, and it's important, too, because his mother doesn't want him to know, and his father is looking down in shame, and Scorpius has never seen Draco Malfoy turn away from a problem.

And Scorpius wants to say he thinks he's going to catch it, too, he wants to say he's scared and needs answers, he even kind of wants to cry, too, even if Hollace would make fun of him if she ever learnt about it. He wants to, but he doesn't do it, because… what's the point?

Besides, he knows where to look for answers.

They don't go to Malfoy Manor very often, only once a year to celebrate Granddad Lucius's own birthday, and it's actually a couple of weeks after the day he tried to get his answers over dinner. So when they arrive here, Scorpius says he wants to go play in the library. It's not unusual for him, because he's always loved books – their smell, their leather-bound covers, their beautiful, old pages, their lovely illustrations – and ever since he's learnt to read, the previous year, he's loved them even more.

He doesn't quite know where to start his research. At first, he decides to look up in a book about magical diseases, but it doesn't say anything about family scars. He still decides to look into a couple more medical books, just in case, but none answers his question, so he goes to the next logical cause: hexes.

There are dozens of books about bad spells and hexes, and it takes him a while to select a few of them, those that seem the most complete, but after over an hour of reading, he still hasn't found an answer.

That's when he thinks – maybe the History section. Because family is also History, isn't it? That's what he's heard Grandma Greengrass say, anyway, and if the mark is a family thing, then maybe it's a historical thing, too. But when he walks up to the History shelf, the library door opens, and his mother is here.

"What are you doing, Scorpius?"

"Nothing," he answers, but he knows without even looking at her that she knows it's not true. They're both terrible liars, his Mum and him. He hears her steps behind him, her heelsclackingon the cold stone of the library, and she puts a hand on his shoulder.

"You shouldn't read those books," she says. "They're extremely boring." Then she smiles down at him and says, "Dinner is ready."

He nods once, walks out of the door, and when she doesn't immediately follow, lingering a little more by the bookshelf, a bad feeling settles in the pit of Scorpius's stomach.

After dinner, he goes back to the library, and he spots it right away: a missing book on the third shelf. Dust hasn't even had the time to settle here, and he knows his mother took it with her.

The book that would have answered his questions.

 

* * *

 

_"Books are… books are tricky, son. They're going to tell you things that are very true, but on the same page, sometimes even in the same paragraph, they're also going to tell you things that are utter and complete lies. And there's a problem with the point of view of the writers. All pretend to be neutral, but most of them aren't. Most of them have biases and prejudices, even if they won't admit it, ever, and I can't really blame them, now, can I? It's not easy, overcoming your prejudices. I know it, that's part of what gave me that scar._

_But the thing remains – it's the winners who write History. Not a single of these books were written by ex-Death Eaters, and no offence to Justin Finch-Fletchley, but he doesn't know what it was like to be a Death Eater. He has no idea. He will never_ _even begin to grasp it, because no one is willing to listen to us. And I get it, Scorpius, I get it, because we never caused anything but despair and anguish, but History books will never be completely accurate if they don't want to hear what it was like, on the other side._

_They'll never know the despair I felt when I realised I couldn't kill Dumbledore and it meant me or my parents would have to pay. They'll never know the fear of feeling that goddamn mark heating, because that meant he wanted me by his side no matter what I was doing before. They'll never know the shame at seeing my father reduced to a broken, frightened man. They'll never know the agony of seeing the house I grew up in become the stage of so many atrocities you don't want to hear about them. They'll never know the guilt I felt whenever I caught myself hoping Potter could finally get us all out of this hole._

_They'll never know, Scorpius, they'll never know because they don't want to know, they'll never know because they have the right not to want to know. They won, after all."_

* * *

 

Four years later, there still isn't a mark on Scorpius's arm. It's reassuring, because maybe his mother was telling the truth, after all, and the scar on his father's arm is nothing important, but then it also isn't, because Scorpius isn't stupid enough to believe her, no matter how badly he wants to. And he is old enough to go to school now, and even though his parents moved to Italy years before he was even born, his Dad still wants him to attend Hogwarts – even though his mother wasn't as keen on the idea as him. Scorpius is going to be in the United Kingdom while his father is still In Italy, and the question haunts him –  _what if the scar appears when he's in school?_

And, judging by the looks people are giving him, it's more than likely to happen.

They're on platform 9 ¾ and the Hogwarts Express is going to leave in about fifteen minutes. Scorpius feels like his heart is about to jump out of his ribcage. He's got the English nationality, of course, because both his parents are, but he's never lived here and it's just… it's not home. Of course, he knows his cousin Hollace, but not that much, because he's never seen her too often, and Scorpius is already feeling so lonely, and then there are also all those people who throw them dirty looks and all those who stare a little too long at his father's arm, and Scorpius feels his throat tighten.

He wants to ask, he wants to ask because now it's painfully obvious that  _everyone but him knows_. He wants to ask and he knows his father is ready to answer because he looks at him, sighs deeply, and says,"About the scar…"

But his mother frowns and says, "No."

"Asteria, people are going to tell him…"

"Which is why he should have attended another school, Draco," his mother spits back, and Scorpius, who was already on the verge of crying, feels a tear roll down his cheek. He's never seen his parents argue, ever, and certainly not over him.

Wiping the tear away before any of them can notice, he simply says, "It's okay. People probably won't tell me anything. No one ever tells me anything."

And without waiting for an answer, he gets on the train, refusing to hug his parents even one last time.

 

* * *

 

" _You have to understand your mum, Scorpius. She simply wanted to protect you. She's your mum. She's going to want what's best for you, and she genuinely thought you were too young to know, that we should wait. And she wasn't entirely wrong, you know. You are too young for such a burden on your shoulders._

_We thought we should tell you before you left for Hogwarts, but you seemed already so distressed and anxious over moving to a country you didn't_ _even know that well that we… she didn't want to add even more to your plate._

_She loves you, Scorpius. Your mother loves you very much. She didn't keep you in the dark to make you look like a fool in school, no matter what you think. She just wanted you to feel safe."_

* * *

 

It isn't long before it becomes painfully obvious that his father did something terrible. He's not sure what, but there's no other explanation for the fact that one week into the school year, the only things he's heard is that he should be ashamed to show up at Hogwarts  **–**  that he has no place here.

The incident that pushes him over the edge happens two days into his second week at Hogwarts. He goes to the school library for the first time to work on a Transfiguration essay, but when he sees the History section, he realises the answers to all of his questions are probably just within his reach, now that he's sure his mother won't take away the books that hold them. Forgetting his essay, he walks up to the History shelf and starts scanning the titles.

Scorpius doesn't know what to look for, so it's not really easy finding a book, but then a title suddenly catches his eyes:  _Draco Malfoy and the Second Blood War: Unauthorized Biography_ by Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Wow. Whatever he has done, books have been written about his father's actions, and that can only mean one thing: it's even worse than what Scorpius expected.

Taking the book from its shelf, Scorpius walks to a table in a quiet corner, intent on finally understanding what happened to his father and his grandfather's arms, but he never reaches it, because suddenly, there's a hand around his throat and it's pushing him against a wall.

Scorpius fights back tears as the angry face of an older boy growls at him, his friends cheering as loudly as they can without alerting the librarian.

"How dare you show your ugly face here, Malfoy?"

"I…" Scorpius stutters, but the older boy doesn't let him finish.

"People of your species should be locked up in Azkaban, or even killed. That would give you a taste of your own medicine, wouldn't it?"

"I…  _What?_ "

Is it what it is? Has his father actually killed someone?

"Don't pretend like you don't know, you son of a bitch. Your grandfather killed my father, and maybe I should kill you to teach him a lesson."

Scorpius wants to plea, to tell him he had no idea, that he is sorry, that he feels terrible, but words are blocked in his throat, and he's not entirely convinced it's because of the other boy's hand at the base of it. Scorpius can feel spreading through his body like a wildfire, poison running through his veins and clouding his mind.  _I come from a family of killers. My family murdered people and now I'm going to have to pay the price._

And just when he thinks he's about to die, the older boy releases him with a yelp. Scorpius doesn't understand what's going on although he does hear people shouting at each other. His mind is flooded by images of his father washing the blood off his hands at the same sink where Scorpius brushes his teeth every day, and he feels sick, so sick he actually vomits.

"Hey, are you okay?"

There's a girl next to him, putting her hands on his shoulder, and Scorpius isn't even strong enough to tell her to leave him alone.

"My name is Victoire Weasley-Delacour," she says, in a calm and reassuring voice. "You might have heard of me, I'm the Head Girl here."

And then – Scorpius isn't sure where the strength to spit those words even come from – he says, looking straight into her big blue eyes, "My name is Scorpius Malfoy. You might have heard of me, my family murdered people."

"I…" she starts, and then stops, visibly hesitating. She nervously puts a strand of loose blond hair back behind her ear and then goes on: "Don't let Patrick get to you. The past is the past. There's nothing either of us can really do about it. Besides, it wasn't your fault."

 

* * *

 

" _The Head Girl was right, you know. It wasn't your fault. It never will be your fault. And you know why? Because you were not born. You don't have to pay for your father's faults, Scorpius. I did, somehow, and I don't want you to go through this. Ever. Because this isn't your burden to carry. This isn't your sin to atone. This isn't your past to learn to live with. This is all mine, Scorpius, all mine and your grandparents'._

_And I'm sorry that people don't see it, I'm sorry that they still think you have to pay for crimes you never were guilty of, I'm sorry that they try to make you pay for things that you haven't done, for things that you will never do. I'm sorry that my past is giving you so much anguish, Scorpius. There are a million reasons why I regret doing what I did during the war, and the idea that it's hurting my innocent child years later is at the top of the list._

_I'm not going to lie, Scorpius. Things are going to be tough for you for a while. Not_ _for_ _too long, I hope, because soon, people will realise what an amazing young boy you are. They will understand that you are no Draco Malfoy, they will see that you are like your mother so much more than you are like me. They will see and feel sorry to have behaved like that, and if they don't, then it's your loss, and really, their prejudices are no better than the ones I used to hold when I was your age."_

* * *

 

Later that night, after having read that book he found in the library – words cutting him deeper than swords – Scorpius sends a letter home. There are only four words:  _We need to talk_.

The answer comes soon after that:  _I know._


End file.
